It was midnight along The Top Road,
out beyond the safety of streetlights,
where ‘Hearing’ and ‘Instinct’ take over.
You scan for surface reflections,
and avoid depth of shadow.
Roosting day birds
unanimously fireworking up from rest…
is a bigger warning than a blaring siren.
That fox will fall silent
when something bigger than its own teeth
decides to cross its path.
As long as he is off noisily to the left,
and that tawny owl remains
hooting undistressed over to the right,
things are lean yet all is still doable.
There is a clearing amongst the dense pine,
smothered all around
with intricate, natural, knotted secrecy.
They used to sacrifice to Deities
much darker than your brooding mood.
Skyclad and mischievous,
it all fell apart when a philosophizing Shaman
broke into their sacred circle
and tutted disapprovingly
hiding the real reason you are here tonight…
you may as well skip straight to the ‘Cakes & Ale’
for Sex & Power is what you crave
not knowledge and enlightenment.”
The loose rocks and stones,
beneath your balancing feet,
upon the way down the tumbling hillside
into the approaching Dawn,
are the texture of a graze
upon the surface skin of a wild, beating heart.
Burgundies stretch the horizon,
and the greys of early morning,
Druid the spaces between receding shadows.
The Oak and Beech are waiting patiently,
for the daily greens to return to their veins…
and there’s a songbird ruffling in anticipation,
readying to replace
the ragged tom cat from his long, nocturnal watch.